


All For A Ring

by Bunky_Barnes



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Depression, Domestic Violence, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Letters Home, Love Letters, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of Sex, Original Character(s), Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny!Steve, Steve becomes a hermit, mentions of domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunky_Barnes/pseuds/Bunky_Barnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Bucky and Steve live together for a short time before Bucky's leaving for war, and come close to happily ever after, if it hadn't been for that damn depression. </p>
<p>Mentions of Domestic Violence/Abuse and slight Homophobia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Comes Love

**Author's Note:**

> First work posted on Ao3, so please be nice and if you have suggestions for improvements go right ahead and leave those behind.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at bunky-barnes.
> 
> Sara-Steve's mother  
> Joseph- Steve's Father  
> Lucy- Bucky's Mother  
> Tom- Bucky's Father
> 
> Asthma cigarettes were used in the 40s to help with attacks, you can Google what was in them. Basically a mixture of mild sedatives and hallucinogenics.
> 
> In the 30s and 40s to Jock/Jocker meant you topped in a homosexual relationship and to Punk or be a Punk meant you were the bottom. Both of those terms had double meanings, and were somewhat exclusive to the small tight knit gay community. Most heterosexuals didn't know these terms meant sexual things. See bottom for more notes about gay slang and some resources about gay life in the 30s and 40s.

To Steve, Bucky was his hero. The summer that Bucky turned twelve he already kissed Janelle from up the street behind the diner on the corner of twelfth and main. When he was fourteen he snuck his hand up Claudia’s sweater at her family’s Christmas party when he had climbed up the fire escape and pretended to like her. By fifteen Bucky lost his virginity with Maxine when he took her out dancing. Bucky had done things Steve had never heard of, and he just guessed it was stuff he heard the guys and gals talk about down by the bar or tried with all the pretty girls he dated. It was nine years after Bucky dated Maxine that he and Steve were sitting out on the fire escape, Bucky on the right. Bucky was always on the right, Steve had bad hearing on his left side, so Bucky was always his right hand man. So they sat listening to the guy a few blocks down play his trumpet into the dark as they ate their dinner of half a boiled sausage and one small potato each when Bucky broke the news to Steve.

“Steve, I have something to tell ya and I want you to promise me some stuff first.”

Bucky hadn’t eaten much just picked at it like he wasn’t hungry or something. It caught Steve’s attention immediately, “Bucky, if its trouble with money-“

“No it’s not money,” he cut in “But you need to promise me something, you can’t tell anyone. Not mom, nobody.”

Steve was trying to fathom what could be this bad that it had rules like this, what, did Bucky kill a man? Get whatever girl he’s screwing this week pregnant?

“You gotta keep it on the down low because if my old man finds out he’d kick my ass for sure-“

“I know Buck, just- what’s the other part.” It was no secret that Bucky’s father was a raging drunk. Domestic violence wasn’t uncommon, happened to everyone at one point these days. But Steve didn’t like hearing how his father pushed him down the stairs and beat his mother so bad she miscarried. It made Steve want storm in and beat the shit out of Tom and save them both, but Bucky had sworn his secrecy and made him promise if Steve was there he wouldn’t step in. Bucky was fearless and strong but when his father came in the room that cloud of worry and fear flooded his eyes.

“Promise you’ll still be there for me, still be my friend and you’ll still do the same stuff with me.” Bucky wasn’t looking at him any more, he was looking out at the street, to the rich side of town. Wishing like every other person in this hell hole of a ghetto to be out there.

“I promise.” Steve said with a hint of worry.

“I’m queer Stevie. Well, kind of. I like dames too- it’s really. Complicated.” Bucky looked down into the alley below him “Probably think I’m some kind of fairy now, don’t ya? It's sick, isn't it? I'm sick.  I get if you don’t want to be friends, I get it.”

Steve blinked. That’s it? This whole show because he’s, queer. Here his heart was hammering thinking he was going to have to help him chop up a body and it’s all because he likes to suck dick once in a while. “Are you serious?” he snapped.

“Jesus I knew I shouldn’t have said-“

“You had me scared out of my mind James! I thought I was going to have to help you hide a body or give you my left nut because you lost a bet to some mobsters, asshole!” Steve shouted at Bucky close to tears.

“Wait, you’re not mad that I’m queer?”

“What? No, no, Buck. That doesn’t matter to me, you’re still my friend. You’re no different than you were twenty minutes ago. It’s your business who you jocker with. Or like. Are punk for- I mean. Heh, not to say you’re a punk. Maybe you are. Sorry. Damn it. Whatever. You’re still my friend is what I mean”

Bucky just gave Steve a half smile and shook his head, still looking out at the same buildings. With their entrancing lights, and thrumming music. He dreamed of being there. All the food you could ever want, far as the eye could see. Instead of meager scrapings he could actually go to bed with a full stomach for the first time in years.

Secretly Steve knew about Bucky’s being queer six years ago, when a man named Brian had stopped by Bucky’s apartment while Steve was over and Bucky’s parents were at the moving picture shows. He handed over Bucky’s tie and belt informing Steve that Bucky had forgotten them last time he came for a visit, nodded awkwardly, tipped his hat, and left. It was that very night that Bucky told him about one of his new sexual experiences with a girl named Briana who liked to be tied up with Bucky’s tie and be spanked with his belt.

“Strong enough, she ripped my tie.” He stated with a smirk holding up his tie like a prize. Always that smirk.

Steve noticed that the tie Brian had left was ripped at the seams, Briana his ass. Steve wasn’t mad at him for lying, being gay wasn’t okay with most people, it just wasn’t talked about, but Steve wasn’t most people and was a little hurt that Bucky either didn’t trust him enough to tell him or he thought Steve would be mad at him. Especially since Steve was the same, of course Bucky didn’t know he was bisexual as well.So really how could he be mad when he did the same thing?

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” he was snapped from his trance of thinking of the past and into the present.

“Sure you don’t hate me?”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you ask my answer won’t change Buck.”



A week after Bucky’s confession his father died in a car accident, wandering around the street wasted at midnight was a good way to get ran over. And yet nobody at the funeral was sad, there was almost a bit of relief in the air. Another one bites the dust. Steve himself was glad Tom Barnes was dead, nobody was going to hurt Bucky anymore, and he wouldn’t see the cloud of fear anymore.

Bucky had his own place now, since he couldn’t stand his father’s iron fist bearing down on him. He had moved in only two days before his father’s death, and it was that reason his father was out drinking money they didn’t have. Bucky never told Steve but he was glad he was a tiny bit responsible for putting him in the drunken state responsible for his death. He was sure Steve would scold him for being morbid.

Steve’s mother was sick and unable to leave the house to make the funeral so she made a little basket of food for Steve to take to Bucky. She seemed a bit happier after hearing about the funeral. Sara and Bucky’s mother were very close and was glad to hear her abusing good for nothing husband was six feet under.

“Lucy could have done better, she settled down with him because little James came along. He was such a happy child till their marriage went sour. Then again Tom seemed to have a gift for ruining things...” she said almost to her self. “Never mind. You go take that to my little Jamie, and Steven, take a coat, it’s raining.”

So he did what he was told and grabbed his coat and the basket for Bucky and opened the door. It was down pouring, and his heart sank knowing he was going to show up soaked to the bone. But he went any ways.

Steve was a block from home when the basket started to leak and he took off his coat to cover Bucky’s food.

When he finally got to Bucky’s door he was dripping wet and shivering.

“Brought ya d-dinner.” Steve smiled despite how he felt like dieing.

Bucky frown and pulled him in, he wasn’t wearing a shirt and if it hadn’t been for the freezing rain he was sure Bucky would have been alerted to the fact that he had noticed. His suspenders were pulled down and his pants were unzipped and unbuttoned. Steve almost didn’t notice how thin he had gotten, Bucky wasn’t as muscular or toned as he remembered. His eye didn’t have their normal glint, and Bucky was coughing and clearing his throat every five seconds. It worried him to see Bucky was the frail one for once.

“You shouldn’t be out on the street this late Steve, especially with it this humid, triggers your asthma. You know that. ”

Bucky wondered over to the pile of clothes heaped in a box and pulled out a shirt and pants for Steve and tossed them to him before opening the basket.

“What the fuck kid? You had a coat so you stuff it in the basket?” he asked with a tone that made him sound as though he’d been awake for days.

“I didn’t want your food to get cold.” Bucky let the lid slam shut. “Jesus Steve, you ever gonna learn? You have conditions, you have to be careful. You shouldn’t be walking this far without a break with your feet and back the way they are, what if you had an asthma attack? Who was going to give you your damn special cigarettes?”

“You haven’t been eating.” He said quietly, knowing Bucky was right.

“Yeah, well, a lot of people don’t go to bed with a full tummy these days Steve.” He said sourly as he stared out the window at the filthy grey rainy alley way.

Silence passed. Ticking away. Just the soft sounds of rain and grumble of thunder. Sometimes they just sat thinking, but together. Quiet, and unmoving.

A thunder clap made Steve jump pulling him from his trance. Steve tried to unbutton his shirt but his hands were too shaky and he huffed in frustration and embarrassment, face reddening. Why did his body hate him so?

“Christ Steve, let me do it.” Bucky came in and saved him yet again, he pushed down Steve’s suspenders and unbuttoned his shirt. He hung it off the cabinet handle where it dripped steadily on the counter making a puddle. Steve stared at it trying to ignore the fact that Bucky was undressing him. He tried to not imagine Bucky’s hand slipping into his slacks and the waist band of his shorts, pushing him against the wall. He tried to not imagine liking it when his best friend moaned his name into their kisses or the feel of Bucky’s hands roaming over his ass. He tried to block the image of Bucky fucking him into the bare mattress on the floor of his bedroom. He swallowed hard thinking of how nice it would feel to have Bucky’s warm hands rub the cold out of his body.

“Come on, I think I have something that will fit you better in the bed room. Still a shrimp after all these years, you ever gonna catch up punk?” Bucky led a shivering and half naked Steve out of his puddle by the door and into what he called his ‘bedroom’. Steve tried to be modest, unlike Bucky with his pants wide open and almost half way down his ass. He had his hands gripping his pants to hold them up, all the way up.

They had seen each other naked plenty of times, but that was years ago. Their bodies had changed, well- Bucky’s body had changed. Steve was the same size he was when he was fifteen.

_Why do I always have to be the embarrassed one, if it were Bucky he’d play it off as a joke._

Steve cursed himself for the thousandth time that day.

Bucky’s room was no more than a mattress on the floor, two blankets, a pile of clothes and some photos of topless pin up girls. Centerfolds stolen from the rack of nudey mags down in the corner store no doubt. But among the smiling naked women were pictures of Bucky and Steve as little boys and teens. Water dripped into a rusty pail from the ceiling, no wonder Bucky felt like shit. He lived in shit.

Bucky was crouched down digging in a box when a new roll of thunder shook the building and lightning split the air. Steve was starting to wonder how many women would still want to sleep with Bucky if they knew he lived in a dump like this. In the dark you cant tell the difference, but in light you could see every awful, filthy detail. Steve guessed that most girls didn’t stay long enough to see morning light.

Besides the rain Steve’s teeth chattering was the only sound in the room.

“Here, they’re kind of thread bare but they’ll do eh?” Bucky smiled standing up, clothes over his shoulder. “Sit on the bed I’ll take your shoes off, sorry about the mess. I wasn’t really thinking anyone would come to visit...”

Steve sat down on the bed, legs splayed out.

He knew that he wasn’t expecting company because his last guest probably left only an our before, in too much of a hurry to notice she forgot a silk stocking and that it was still in-between the wall and mattress. He pretended it didn’t happen, just like all the other girls. Just push them out.

Bucky crouched between Steve’s legs and untied his shoes, setting them to the side to dry, he did the same with Steve’s now saturated socks as well. All Steve could do is watch as Bucky cared for him just as tender and careful as his own mother would have.

Bucky probably never knew the careful touch of a mother. She was rarely home, and when she was she hid in the bedroom. Bucky had spent most of his childhood at Steve’s house, his only safe place. Bucky showed up once a month, battered or broken and Steve’s mother always let him in without a word, because she didn’t need an explanation. She already knew. He became Jamie to her, her little Jamie. But there’s nothing that can replace the love of ones real mother, and Bucky knew it. He was an unwanted child, and an accident. He blamed himself for his family’s unhappiness. Steve hadn’t noticed but his face had become a frown, thinking about everything that made Bucky upset. He didn’t want him to feel alone anymore, but what was all 90 pounds of Steve going to do?

Upon noticing Steve’s look of sadness Bucky took it upon himself to fix it. Perhaps it was the hangover, or just that urge he had to satisfy, he was never sure what made him do it but he never regretted it for a day in his life.

It was on the old broken down mattress in Bucky’s dumpy little apartment Bucky kissed a shivering Steve till he forgot the cold in the room and in Bucky’s life. He just planted his arms on either side of Steve and leaned in, gently brushing his lips against Steve’s, hardly a kiss. It took a few seconds to work up the courage to do it, but Steve wasn’t going anywhere.

Bucky couldn’t hold back any more, all these years of pinning after Steve, hiding and denying being gay not just to his family and friends but himself too, never telling his father, running. He was done. Bucky kissed him, kissed him till he was over Steve, moving against him, and kept kissing him till they were both breathless and panting.

“I shouldn’t have done that-“Bucky mumbled, regret already creeping in his gut.

“Holy fucking smokes.” Steve blinked wide eyed at the ceiling, somehow he had wound up on his back with Bucky over him. “That was- that was”

They spoke in unison.

“Bad.”

“Devine.”

“Steve, you’re not queer-“

“If I wasn’t queer before, I am now.” He smiled up at Bucky, he same smile he had when they played stickball as kids, the same smile he gave Bucky when he had a brush with death, be it a fight or asthma. That smile said everything was alright, and it brought Bucky home. The only person who cared for Bucky enough to stick around for more than two weeks.

“You’re just saying that, I would’ve known by now, you never look at guys.”

“That’s because I’m too busy looking at you for you to notice Buck. I don’t want nobody but you.”

It felt better to say it than he thought it would, like breathing fresh air. Relief from drowning, it felt good. It was on that ratty mattress, in that dreary room, so much happened, first kiss, confessions of love, and promises they hoped to keep but never would, like having children and a home together. It was there, that night, they made love to the crashing grumble of thunder and blinding lightning, for the first time. Bucky had a lot of sex, but they both made love for the first time that night. Rolling together like the storm outside, free, for now. It was different, better, than sex.



There’s a saying Bucky became fond of later in life. ‘If you ride like lightning, you’re gonna crash like thunder.’

It wasn’t a week after Steve showing up soaked on Bucky’s front door he showed up with boxes, ready to move in. Bucky got a job loading trucks down at the docks, they bought a light bulb for the kitchen, Bucky was no longer the thin one, Steve wasn’t bed ridden or sick, everything was smooth as butter.

And then the thunder crashed. Steve’s mother, Sara, died TB hit her and she couldn’t shake it. Steve’s father, Joseph, died in 1918 before Steve was even born; his father never even got to see his only son before dieing due to mustard gas in the First World War.

Suddenly Steve and Bucky were one and the same, nothing but each other left. If that wasn’t bad enough Bucky got behind on rent, Steve got sick again, and Bucky was back to having to put new notches in his belt to make it small enough. He kept scraping half of his own meager rations onto Steve’s plate. They both pretended that Bucky didn’t go to bed hungry most nights and that the sounds of his gut groaning was just the dog next door. But they both knew that they didn’t have a dog, it just made pretending easier.

But no matter how bad it got Steve insisted on Bucky going out once a week to a dance hall, Steve knew that he wouldn’t last more than two minutes before he’d have to stop. It was enough to know Bucky was enjoying himself and having fun. Bucky knew Steve was picked on and bullied incessantly, the last thing he wanted was to add more names to the list of taunts thrown at his tiny lover.

Steve should have known something was up when Bucky started coming home with more money than he left with that something was up. He just figured Bucky was playing cards at a cabaret or rolling dice in some back alley and just got lucky. Lucky was something he was quite often, never got the blame when they were in school, had enough charm and wit to lie through his teeth in any situation, and of the two of them Bucky had an easier time with women than Steve did.

Everyone knew that. But when Bucky started coming home with crumpled fives and tens Steve wondered if he was even going out dancing or if he was working a double shift at the dock or something. He would have asked what he was doing but for once Bucky was proud of himself for getting enough money to buy everything they needed he thought it better not to bring it up.

It was after living together for 2 months, it was winter already. The streets were slush, socks were wearing though, and suddenly Bucky found himself unable to pay for the heat. All the money he had seemed to have vanished, he was out of a job now. With winter came a new form of flu or cold, or if you were Steve worse, pneumonia. He was bed ridden and Bucky flustered over him like a worried mother. They only had the rickety queen mattress sitting in the bedroom but Bucky had found some big table cloths and Steve had gotten the quilts from his mothers’ estate. Even with all those layers Steve managed to sweat through all of them. No matter how uncomfortable he never said a word. Just the occasional groan when he turned over.

Over the next few days he got worse, refusing to eat and drink, barely acknowledging Bucky when he came in to change the blankets. Most of the time Bucky had nothing better to do but sit and watch Steve suffer knowing there was nothing he could do. They couldn’t afford the hospital bill and he was getting worse.

Bucky got up and went to the kitchen and opened the cupboard next to the stove. As usual it was empty accept for a little metal tin shoved way up top in the back. He pulled it down and brought it back to the bedroom and sat back down in his chair next to Steve. He popped the tin and took out the ring at the bottom. He turned it over in his hands staring at the simple gold band, much too small for his hands. He read the inscription on the inside over and over in his head. ‘Till the end of the line. It was simple, all he could afford for Steve. The engraving is what really got him. Two hundred and sixty dollars down the drain on selfishness. He could have spent the money on taking Steve to the hospital, instead he was stuck with a ring, now that he bought it the ring wasn’t worth half of what he paid for it, everyone was selling gold. The weight came down right on bucky’s shoulders. He had done this to them, spent all that money on this stupid ring, he was the one who didn’t make enough money to pay the bills, he kept them in poverty. Besides, what was he going to do, marry Steve? Another man? Impossible, what had he been thinking. He stared out the window in the same direction, same ritzy side of town and cursed himself. Bucky cursed himself for being selfish, stupid, and wasteful. It made him sick, this useless metal ring in his hand, the rich fools out there in their luxury hotel rooms buying drinks they don’t touch. He knew he was no better than them. Throwing money down the drain on things they couldn’t afford.

_You dumb son of a bitch  what a mistake, your whole damn life is a mistake._

He didn’t notice the hot tears that ran down his face or that Steve’s eyes had opened and turned to him. Steve was silent for a while listening to his friends soft sobs, studying his face in the moonlight.

“What’s wrong Buck, what cha’ thinkin about that’s got you so bent out of shape?” he asked quietly “Hm? Tell me.” But Bucky just shook his head no and looked at the floor

“Naw, nothin. Nothin I can’t handle.”Liar.

“James Barnes- I thought we were in this together, no secrets.”

Bucky had more secrets than Steve knew, the ring, the money. Lies. Secrets. All of them.

“You could do better ya know Steve, I’m trash compared to you. I’m dirty, I’m an idiot,” it tumbled out of his mouth with all the force of a waterfall. “I’m a whore.”

“Bucky, just because you sleep with a few dames now and then-“Steve started Bucky’s laugh was a harsh bark, paired with a sneer it was enough to make Steve frown.

“You don’t get it do you, I figured even you would have figured it out but now, damn. Ever wonder why I come home with my knees wet? It’s because I kneel in the street and ally ways in the snow. You know why I kneel Steve? Because I suck guys off at random for crumpled dollar bills. I whore myself out. Let em do what they want, because damn if it doesn’t feel good to have money in my pocket.”

Steve didn’t interrupt, even though it hurt to hear it said, in the back of his mind Steve knew. But he always gave Bucky benefit of the doubt. No matter what. And it was for that reason he said nothing and just sat there. He just sat there and took it, with his eyes full of concern and lips dragging in a taught little frown. Silence rang in the air between the two of them.

“You know what I did with the money? I wasted it. Instead of helping you I wasted it on a stupid dream.” Bucky choked out. It was crushing him to see Steve looking at him like that. “I haven’t a thing to my name. We have no food, no rent money. Nothing.” He whispered

“You’ve got me, and I got you. Nothin’ll change that.” Steve says softly as he places a hand on Bucky’s knee, and gives him that weak little hopeful smile.

That does it. That’s what pushes him over the edge. Bucky slides off his chair and onto the mattress that cries out when he slides on. He lays there and weeps, because he’s broke, he weeps because he’s an orphan, because Steve shushes him and puts his thin arms around him and softly cradles his head to his chest. He weeps because he’s supposed to be the strong one, but mostly because he knows what he has to do. And it’s going to hurt them both, but it’s what’s best for Steve. They sleep tangled up that night, in their interlocked embrace of sorts.


	2. Life Just Loves to Fuck Us Over, Doesn't It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like the crushing weight of loss to ruin your health and hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the end for notes on being a gay/queer draftee and phyc eval. they had to go through to "screen out gays", and media for more on being gay in the 1930s and 1940s.

Steve doesn’t even open his eyes and he knows, Bucky is gone. Completely, no creaking steps in the hall, nothing. Just the soft sound of the record player, playing Steve and Bucky’s song. Their special song. The one they slow dance to, in the dark of the apartment where nobody will tease Steve about being small or unable to dance or Bucky for being queer. The song that makes Steve cry happy tears on the front of Bucky’s shirt every time. The song Bucky hummed to Steve when the fevers got too bad or there was bad news to break. Moonlight Serenade. It was their song. 

His eyes flicker open and he sits up, too fast, and coughs for a solid five minutes before he’s able to crawl from the mess of blankets he's knotted up in and wobble bow legged and leaning against the wall to the kitchen. He finds an envelope with his name on it and that’s the only trace of Bucky he can find. The scrawling, messy handwriting of James Barnes.

He has to sit down because he’s shaking so bad, dread, worry, fear, they all cloud his mind as he picks up the envelope heavier on one side. He pulls out the paper, and reads, silent, teeth digging in his fist. He bites on his fist to keep from bawling out loud and worrying the neighbors. But really what would they care? Bucky is the only one who actually cares about him.

_Stevie,_

_If you’re reading this it ‘cause I’m gone and it’s only because I saw no other way out. I would never leave you without a good reason, you know that, don’t you? Of course you do, you know everything about me. It hurts a lot having to write this, and I know it’s going to hurt even more when it actually comes time to leave. But you gotta understand Steve, if I’m gone that means the only way I could take care of you was by leaving. I know its hard to understand baby. Sometimes I don't understand myself either._

_You’re probably wondering where I’m off to. Well I don’t know, but I can tell you this much, I’ve gone to the recruiting office. Remember that kid David from up the street? Well he’s a recruiter now. Imagine that. David Bower in the U.S. Army. Can you believe it was only 6 years ago we was chasing skirt us three? Everything goes so fast these days. He told me he could get me in as soon as I wanted, pull some strings. He knows a guy or something like that. But I have no idea where I’m going after that, but I promise to write as soon as I can._

_If you get in a pinch you can hock my stuff, but that shouldn't be a problem because I’ll be sending my check home to you. It's not worth much anyways. I won’t be needing it where I’m going. Remember that your meds need to be refilled at the end of the month, and never leave the house without your asthma cigs and a coat._

_Included in this envelope is a ring, you can sell it if you want, that’s fine. When I said I wasted the money this is what I meant. I bought you a ring when I could have gotten groceries. What a waste, I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me all those nights you went to bed with an empty stomach. Don't blame yourself for this Steve, and I know you will. But try not to. These things happen, and life enjoys fucking me in the ass. Not as much as you do of course, but it's pretty damn close some days. Please remember I’m doing this because I love you, I don’t want to leave you. If there was another way I’d do it. But if you hate me I understand, a lot of times I hate me too._

_If I make it home I promise you we’ll live the life of ease and have the best, mind blowing sex yet. We can have that house you want, white with blue shudders, and a dog. A big ugly fucking mutt, who needs kids anyway? I'll get a job and you can draw and paint with every color they got on the market. I promise. I do. Cross my heart and hope to die._

_I love you and miss you already,_

_Bucky_

Steve wore the ring every day after that, as a reminder. Bucky rang true to his words. His first letter home included a photo of Bucky grinning and shirtless in his bunk and 80 dollars cash.

_Steve,_

_They ended up sending me to Fort Bliss for Basic Training, I got into boxing to pick up extra cash, and made some friends here. Everyone is nervous about going over seas, ~~so am I.~~ We pull out soon and head over to Paris._

_The photo is just something for you to remember me by, but I’m sure you wouldn’t forget me any way ~~I can’t forget you. You’re stuck in my head.~~ I miss you so much it hurts, sometimes at night you can hear men crying in their bunks and I’m one of them._

_I hope everything is alright at home, the rent is twenty bucks, food will be about ten or fifteen, and so that leaves quite a bit for you. Buy yourself something Steve, new clothes, a record, art stuff. Something. Go see a movie and get out. It's not good to sit in that room alone. You know that. I shouldn't have to remind you but i'm going to anyway. If it’s not too much I was wondering if you could send some photos, you, ma, dad, ~~you, a lot of you. God I miss you.~~_

_Love you,_

_Buck_

Steve obliged and sent all the photos he could find, ripping them off the walls, shuffling through boxes (though the dust caused a coughing fit that left him gasping), doing whatever he could for Bucky. The only one he kept for himself was the one of Bucky sprawled on his bunk, with his big charming grin.

As for the other part, getting out, didn’t happen. Steve left only to buy food and re-fill his meds. He withdrew from the world and blamed the world for taking his best friend away. It made him a bit bitter. Poisoned him. That hole Bucky left festered and ached like an infection. Most days he filled listening to the radio for news in Paris. Or drawing Bucky from memory. Bucky sitting under an apple tree when they were twelve stuffing apples down his shirt to carry more, Bucky nuzzled up against Steves flat, frail chest, Bucky sitting by the window fanning himself on one of those hot summer days in nothing but his shorts. Flashing a tired and sluggish half smile at Steve.

_~~Stevie, Steve,~~ Steven,_

_Made it to France in one piece thankfully. Thanks for the photos Steve, they help a lot, ~~help me think of you,~~ help me think of home. _

_Its real bad here, yesterday we got in a fire fight with the Nazis. One minute Sam is next to me the next he’s all over me. ~~I killed for the first time. I shot a man.~~ There are only 23 of us left now. And every one of us can’t get much sleep these days. ~~It’s hard with the screams and voices in my head.~~ I don’t know how much longer I can do this Steve, I just wanna go home._

_I hope you’re doing all right, I miss you._

_Bucky_

The letters come less frequently after that, usually its just the crumpled 60-80 dollars. Steve never cared about the money, he would have sent it back but he knew too well that getting money for Steve was the only thing that kept Bucky alive. 

When they do come they’re short and it’s almost like he’s not there anymore. Really, he's not, and neither is Steve. They've both worried, and grieved so much they just zone out, Bucky takes orders, and Steve waits. Just shells of the men they used to be.

_S,_

_I’m alright, in Austria now. Its cold all the time and the food is always frozen._

_J.B._

The longest one he sends is the worst one. Because he doesn’t write it, a nurse has to.

_S,_

_You probably noticed it’s not my hand writing, and you’re right. I asked the nurse to write for me because I can’t do it myself anymore. I lost my left arm in an explosion. We were driving trucks full of supplies to camp when we were ambushed by heavy artillery. My truck was sent over a cliff and my arm badly crushed and mangled._

_I don’t want you to worry but I know you will anyway. Remember to take your meds._

_Bucky_

Steve has a panic attack and ends up in the hospital. Luckily he could pay the bill with the money he was supposed to use to go out. Steve worries, looses sleep, sinks into depression. Nobody says hello when he goes out, he hardly talks anymore. He just sits and listens to the radio all day. Glassy stare aimed at the photo of Bucky on the wall. The one he kisses and says "good mornin Buck" and "nite Buck" to every day. The only five things he says all day.

_Steve,_

_Got some experimental prosthetic, back in the fight. Put on special team called the Howling Commandos. Doing fine no worries._

_B_

Experimental prosthetic? The hell is that? Like a new arm? How could they do that? An injury like that should have him on the first boat home not being some lab rat. This isn't fair to him. This isn't fair to either of them.

Steve still worries despite his being okay, because he can’t shake the fact it doesn’t sound like Bucky anymore. Not his Bucky.

_I come home soon._

That was all he put. An entire sheet of paper and all he wrote was “I come home soon” in the middle of the paper.

Of his entire letters home this worried Steve most, chilled him. No names, no details, no I love you. It had all gradually just faded out. And it made Steve wonder what happened that made him like this. He was there but he wasn’t. His Bucky had died in Fort Bliss Texas. The minute his boot his the ground. This was just a shell, a little tinker soldier made to play war. Not a human, not a man, and not a queer. He was just a number, and if he was lucky, maybe a first name and last initial.

_I leave for home tomorrow, last mission is tonight, I want to be home. I want to come home. I hate it here, three years here in misery, the wet and cold. I wanna hold you in my arms again. Take the cold from my body and just hold me close._

_James_

This letter included a photo, of Bucky. Grim faced, expressionless, his eyes didn’t have the glint or flirting smirk of the first one. He looked empty. Broke. He stood holding a knife by a bunch of crates. He looked more annoyed to take the photo than anything. Steve looked at both arms, he didn’t see a difference. Bucky was wearing gloves, so he didn’t get to see this new prosthetic, and wondered if they were able to fix it. If things were really this advanced, or if it was carved wood with a glove. Steve never did get to find out.

The next letter wasn’t from Bucky.

**It is my regret to inform you that on August 20 th at 1800 hours Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was killed in action. Upon finding that Sergeant Barnes had no remaining family, and he upon his request you were informed of his death. Under normal circumstances we would request you to identify any personal affects. Upon investigation of the body, the site, and his bags the following things were retrieved and enclosed. Barnes’s dog tags and a letter.**

  **Sergeant Barnes died fighting for what he believed in, and will never be forgotten. His sacrifice will not go unnoted.**

**General Arthur T. Prewitt**

Steve was in shock. It wasn’t true; he just got a letter from him. He pulled out the second letter from the envelope numb with shock.The dog tags clanged to the floor when he dropped the envelope.

_Steve,_

_I can’t wait to be home, I miss you being in my arms, I miss waking up to see you smiling in your sleep. I miss dancing cheek to cheek with you in the living room. There’s nothing I want more than to come home to my sweet heart. I’m sorry if these last few letters seem out of character, I guess I was just scared I wasn’t going to come home. I’ve seen so many of my friends die in front of me, you just learn to ignore feeling. Feeling scared, feeling anything. But I’m so close to going home I can taste it._

_With my check we can move out of that dump and buy a house. Like you always wanted, white with blue shudders and a dog._

_I can’t wait to see you. god I love you so much Steve,_

_Buck_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To put it lightly gay/queer people were not allowed in the military. To "filter out queers" men and women who wanted to join the military had to undergo psychic evaluations. These entailed a series of questions like "Do you like women?", "Are you attracted to women?". This was easily passed by lying. But if a draftee tried to draft dodge by claiming to be queer or someone who was gay put it out there right away one of three things would happen: He would be told hes unfit for the military and his family and work will be notified and he will most likely be fired and shunned by his family, they'll assume he's lying and pass him, or believe he was queer and pass him anyways. A lot of times the Psychiatrists were not homophobic and didn't care if you were homosexual, they had a quota of recruits to fill that HAD to be met. So they were willing to over look things like homosexuality.
> 
> I found the information above and more in the book Coming Out Under Fire By Allan Berube, it is also a film documentary. Both can be found on Amazon.com . I found the book at my local library.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the terms Punk and Jock/ Jocker from the book From Here To Eternity By James Jones, when he uses the terms a handful of Army GIs are cautioning a man about going "queer hunting" for some extra money between pay days.
> 
> If you're interested about learning about gay slang or gay life for soldiers both male and female in the 1940s/WW2 I suggest the books:
> 
> The Evening Crowd At Kimser's- About a gay bar in the 40s, the life of a gay man, and the story of how he was discharged from the Army for being gay. It's short, about 150 pages
> 
> Coming Out Under Fire- About the struggles of being gay in the military, GI drag shows, information and statistics about homosexuals in the second world war, gay/campy slang, stories from gay veterans, and what it was like for lesbians also. Includes photos and LOTS of sources. VERY informational. Somewhere around 300 pages.


End file.
